Paths of Memory
by Arkade4D
Summary: The Vagabond's Destiny Cycle, Book One. A new caravan member named Hex embarks on a quest to rid the world of miasma, walking the path of another, who has already failed, his only guide an old letter.


Final Fantasy: Crystal Chronicles The Vagabond's Destiny Cycle, Book One: Paths of Memory  
  
Disclaimer: The author of the fanfiction makes no claims to ownership of the game, Final Fantasy: Crystal Chronicles, or any of the copyrighted material contained within that game, including characters originally presented in the game. As the author, I do claim exclusive use of the original characters presented in this fanfiction, unless I give my permission for their use in other stories.  
  
Chapter One: Beginnings  
  
"Where did it go?"  
  
"We wounded it; it couldn't have gotten far..."  
  
"We'd best split up - and keep an eye out for the crab."  
  
The moogle known as Blu watched the three goblins drift apart, wandering off in separate directions from beneath the tree Blu was hiding. After a moment, he let out a long sigh, and then winced in pain - the cut running between his wings, put there by a goblin dagger, was still fresh and bleeding.  
  
Blu chastised himself in his mind, berating himself for his carelessness. He had been so close after so long, and he had lost half his package because of these goblin thieves. They hadn't gotten their hands on the package, and he was pretty sure they hadn't noticed he had dropped it in his flight. And now, the village he had been sent to, Tipa, was in eyesight, at least from the top of the tree he was hiding in. Taking another look at the ground around him, and seeing that the goblins were not around, he leapt deftly from branch to branch, ignoring the pain in his back, until he reached the ground.  
  
Almost the moment his feet touched the grass, a stone shot past his head. Blu whirled around and saw one of the goblins leap out of the bushes near by. It yelled out in the goblin race's random, growling tongue, and though Blu had understood what they had said before, his mind couldn't quite seem to catch this word. Instead, only a single thought was running through the moogle's mind:  
  
Run!  
  
Hex sat alone and silent on the bridge stretching over the small creek that marked the northern boundary of the small village of Tipa. If he got up and walked as far as a foot from the far side of the bridge, the side leading into the outside world, he would be immediately poisoned, feel his life slip away with each breath as the almost invisible miasma gas that engulfed the world worked its horrors on him.  
  
To feel that again...there had been a time when the thought had terrified Hex. But only days after he had been brought from the remains of his decimated merchant caravan to this village by its crystal caravan, he had developed the habit of walking to this bridge. He would stand at the very boundary, just beyond the effects of the miasma, just within the protection of the crystal that kept this town alive, as crystals just like it did every other village, town, and city in the world.  
  
Protection from an otherwise certain death, dealt by an unbeatable enemy.  
  
Hex shook his head as he watched the fish swim beneath him and the bridge. There had to be a way to stop miasma. Tipa's elder, Roland, used to often speak of his own son, who had left Tipa's caravan to chase after a sliver of hope - hope for a world where people were not prisoners within the light of crystals. But, over time since Hex's arrival, Roland had begun to talk about his son less and less. Years after having been brought to Tipa by Thorn, a Lilty and the then-leader of Tipa's caravan, Hex had asked Roland about his son again. But Roland had remembered vary little, and had not remembered the young man's name.  
  
This, too, should have worried the people of Tipa, but memory loss was as omnipresent a threat as the miasma. No one knew why, and many thought the problem linked to the miasma itself, but it was just another threat the people of the world had learned to accept. Hex himself could remember almost nothing about his hometown, now.  
  
And that was exactly what Hex was leaving Tipa the day after this one, to travel with Tipa's caravan and help preserve what hope this village had left. He would travel into the monster-infested mists, see far off lands and distant towns, and help protect some small portion of the world. That was what caravans were: small slivers of light shining in hope through the dark mists threatening to envelope them all.  
  
Hex got up from his spot on the bridge and walked to the bridge's edge, the boundary of the village. This was the last time he would this, the last time he would silently taunt the world outside. Tomorrow, he would walk out into the world, and he would cut a swathe across the world, and any beast that stood in his way, to protect the village he now called home.  
  
After a few minutes, Hex smiled to himself. He turned to walk back into the village, but at the last second, a flash of white and color caught his eye. He turned back and peered down the path, and after a moment, he saw what appeared to be a moogle messenger. He almost turned back towards the village again, but then he noticed the three goblins chasing the moogle.  
  
Hex took a step towards the path, but stopped short. He could go no further then the bridge. Until the moogle made it this far, it was on its own.  
  
Blu, for his part, only wondered for a moment why the young, blond Clavat on the bridge wasn't rushing to his aide. The Clavat couldn't, of course. Blu had to make it at least as far as the bridge - until then, he was on his own.  
  
The moogle was doing well, running faster then Hex had ever seen any moogle run. Of course, Hex had not seen too many moogles run anywhere - they preferred to fly. That this one wasn't told Hex that it was probably wounded. Hex stood there, bouncing on his toes and silently encouraging the moogle, his hand finding its way to the handle of his sword.  
  
Hex noticed now that the goblins had noticed him, and he drew his sword in a large, upward arc, the light of the setting sun seemingly lighting the blade on fire. The goblins saw this, apparently, as they hesitated – one of them actually tripped. The moogle put on a burst of speed, and would be with Hex in a moment more, if not for the lead goblin, who seemed to be something of a quick thinker, at least for a goblin – the goblin threw a stone at the moogle, knocking the moogle on its face.  
  
The two goblins still on their feet were on the moogle in a flash – the third remained prone on the ground, sneering at the idea of the coming carnage. Hex could not come to the moogle's aid with his sword, the moogle and the goblins were still a few yards away. But Hex had other tricks up his sleeve, tricks he had learned along with the handful of other children of Tipa, at the feet of the village's Yuke alchemist, Feather.  
  
Hex held up his hand for the goblins to see, calling to them simply, "Hey." The goblins looked up at Hex, having not yet attacked the moogle, and their eyes widened at what they saw: a Ring of Thunder, Feather's gift to Hex on his last birthday. Hex focused his energy, and the moogle used the goblin's distraction to roll away, before Hex yelled out, "Thunder," and with a gesture towards the goblins, unleashed a burst of lightning where the goblins were standing.  
  
The moogle dashed behind Hex as the two goblins writhed in pain – but the apparent leader did not fall. As his companion fell to the ground, the leader dashed at Hex. Hex did not have time to perform another casting – as a reflex, he slashed upwards with his copper sword, cutting a deep wound across the goblin's eye. At this, the goblin at last fell back, stumbling over his prone and unconscious companion. Hex smiled at his victory, but then the moogle let out a cry. Hex whirled around, and saw that the goblin who had fallen first – the one who had tripped – had the moogle in its claws and a dagger to the struggling, but tiring, moogle's throat.  
  
"We only wantsss the treasssure, Preciousss," the Scarred Goblin said, kneeling on the ground and nursing it eye.  
  
The goblin's manner of speech struck Hex as odd, and a little familiar, and for a moment, Hex could nothing but ponder this fact. As he stood there, glaring at the Scarred Goblin, the other goblin walked cautiously past him.  
  
"But, I'm telling you," the moogle squeaked, "I haven't got anything you would want, nothing!"  
  
"Ssstay back, and we may givesss you the moogle, when we are done."  
  
Hex stood at the crystal's boundary, rage boiling up inside him, as the goblin holding the little moogle joined the Scarred Goblin. And then, something in Hex snapped, and he lunged outward into the mist.  
  
He was surprised how easily took the racking pain of the miasma's effects on him. He ignored it almost completely as he ran the goblin with the dagger straight through. The moogle hit the ground and was behind Hex again, but Hex was forced to his knees by the miasma before he could take a swing at the Scarred Goblin. The Scarred Goblin took his fallen companion's dagger, and was about to stab Hex in the face, when a tiny voice called out, "Cure!" from somewhere behind Hex.  
  
Hex felt the magic work on his body, felt his inner wounds close, felt the effects of the poison slip away for a split second, and a second was all he needed. He leapt to his feet kicking the Scarred Goblin away, grabbed the moogle, who had at last fainted from the exertion of casting the Cure spell, and dashed back to the bridge. Having seen his foe rejuvenated, and having lost one companion already, the Scarred Goblin simply stood there, snarling. When Hex again began to focus his energies in his Ring of Thunder, the Scarred Goblin quickly hoisted his unconscious companion onto his shoulders, and dashed out of spell range into the trees along the path.  
  
Hex sighed deeply, looking out into the trees and mist where the goblins had disappeared. Then, he looked at the small moogle in his arms, and noticed for the first time that the moogle had blue spots around its eyes. Hex had never seen this before, and despite the pain of the poison still lingering in his system, he was smiling as he walked back into the village.  
  
The next morning, Hex went immediately to the small drawer he and Thorn had put the moogle in to rest the night before. Thorn, a Lilty who lacked the leafy hair of most of his people, and seemed to wear more intricately designed gauntlets to compensate, was already at the moogle's side. The moogle was still asleep.  
  
"How ya doin', kid?" Thorn asked when he saw Hex.  
  
Hex filled a cup with water from a bucket, and took a long drink before he answered, "Pretty good, considering."  
  
Thorn chuckled and shook his head. "That was a brave thing you did for this little moogle. Brave, if a little foolish."  
  
"I wasn't gonna let that goblin gut this poor little thing," Hex said, petting the moogle's head as he spoke. The moogle stirred and smiled, but did not wake.  
  
"Ya coulda called fer help, lad," Thorn said, matter of factly.  
  
"Didn't occur to me," Hex returned in the same tone.  
  
Thorn laughed. "Head out back and take a bath, lad," Thorn said as he walked towards the door. "Get ready for today, but don't leave the house until I send for ya. We gotta get ready."  
  
Hex nodded, and Thorn left. Hex waited for a moment more, looking at the moogle sleeping in the drawer. It had had a nasty gash across its back, which explained why it had not been flying when Hex had first seen it. And those eyes...Hex had truly never seen anything like them before. The fur around them was as blue as Hex's own eyes. Looking at them, shut so tight, Hex felt an odd connection to the moogle, felt certain that he was meant to meet this moogle for some unknown and unimaginable reason. Perhaps, if the little messenger was willing, Hex would invite it to carry the caravan's chalice, the container in which the caravan collected drops of myrrh to return to the village's crystal. After a few moments, Hex turned and walked out the back door of the house, to a tub of water on red coals that Thorn had left for him.  
  
Hex undressed and slipped into the warm water, and despite having just woken up, soon drifted off again. He dreamt of the moogle with the blue eyes, of the two of them shooting through the night sky, as stars fell from the heavens and shadows of black and white reached for their hearts and souls.  
  
Hex woke with a start from this dream, not because of the dream, itself – he had had this dream before, and he was not alone in noticing that stars seemed to be disappearing from the night sky as of late – but because he had heard a crash from within the house.  
  
Hex dressed hurriedly, and rushed inside. He looked around fervently, and then saw the source of the noise: the moogle was tearing the house apart.  
  
"What are you doing?" Hex yelled.  
  
The moogle whirled around, and when he saw Hex, he seemed to calm down a bit. "It's you, the Clavat who saved me," the moogle said.  
  
"Yes, it's me," Hex answered with a nod. "Now what are you doing?"  
  
"I was looking for my letter."  
  
Hex sighed and walked over to the drawer the moogle had been sleeping in. He reached into the drawer, under the cloths he and Thorn had used to keep the moogle warm in the night, and produced the letter. "We never took it from you," Hex said, holding it up.  
  
"Oh," the moogle said. "Hadn't thought to look there."  
  
The moogle fluttered over to Hex shakily, the bandages wrapped around him to nurse his wounds interfering with his flight slightly. He came to rest on Hex's head. "Did you read it?"  
  
"No, it's not for me, it's for the village elder, Roland," Hex said, passing the letter up to the moogle. The moogle did not take it, however.  
  
"Do you know Roland?" the moogle asked.  
  
"Of course," Hex answered. "He's this village's elder."  
  
"Thank goodness," the moogle said. "I'm Blu, by the way."  
  
"Hex."  
  
"Nice to meet you. So, could you take me to Roland?"  
  
"No," Hex said, shaking his head. The moogle kept its balance well. "I am stuck here while the village prepares for my departure."  
  
"Where are you going?" Blu asked.  
  
"I'm joining the caravan."  
  
"Oh, very brave, very brave," Blu said, nodding. "But maybe not something you need to do anymore. I have read that letter, and it is from Roland's son," Blu was taking on an important tone as he spoke. "And if Roland does as it says, the threat of miasma may be beaten for good."  
  
"Well, it's not likely Roland will open the letter at all, in that case," Hex said, reaching up and removing the moogle from his head. He placed Blu on a nearby table and said, "Roland doesn't remember his son much at all."  
  
Blu's eyes grew wide at this. "What?" he said in disbelief. "I...I have heard of the memory loss afflicting the people, but it rarely takes memories held close to the heart. Did Roland not care for his son?"  
  
"As far as I can tell, Roland cared for his son more then anything else."  
  
Blu was silent for a few moments, then. It was Hex who spoke again.  
  
"Can I read the letter?"  
  
Blu looked up at Hex, and after a moment, nodded. "I suppose so..."  
  
Hex opened the letter, and read:  
  
"Father, "I hope this letter makes it to you somehow. I waited for a messenger to take it before my companion and I left, but none came. It seems I am too far out. "I am sorry I left the caravan, as I'm sure you've discovered by now. But I could not ignore the stories I had heard, I could not ignore the possibility of the end of miasma, the chance to end its threat, forever. "I am sorry if I caused you undue pain, Father. Truly. And I am more sorry if I end up unable to return to you and Mother. But I have to try – you taught me that hope is all we have, but I want to give the people more. "If this letter finds you, and the miasma has not yet left the world, then hopefully the package with this letter has found you as well. I beg you, Father – please allow someone to follow in my footsteps. The package contains scrolls with the stories I heard, and the tale of the path I walked. Let someone – anyone – walk my path if they will, and hope that they succeed where I, apparently, have failed. "Within this letter you will find a ring, a Crystal Ring capable of protecting a single person from miasma. It does not need myrrh, so no caravan will lose anything in its use, should you allow it to be used apart from a caravan. Let it be given to someone brave, someone willing to risk everything for hope, as I was." "Your Son"  
  
Hex held the letter numbly in his hand, reading and rereading it without really registering any but a single sentence of it: "the end of miasma." Hex finally tore his gaze from the letter, and looked at the ring in his other hand. Blu only watched Hex turn over his thought in silence.  
  
"A Crystal Ring, the end of miasma..." Hex muttered. Blu only nodded.  
  
A knock on the door startled both of them. Feather poked her head through the door. "Hex, we are ready. The others are gathering." And she disappeared.  
  
Hex looked at Blu, and Blu looked at Hex. "How did you get this? Did Roland's son give it to you to deliver?"  
  
"No, I found it far from here," Blu answered. "It had been there, left alone, for a long, long time..."  
  
"And the package?"  
  
"I lost it not far from here, near the waterfall at the mouth of the River Belle."  
  
"The goblins," Hex nodded. "We'll have to go back for it. But first, let's get this letter to Roland."  
  
Blu fluttered over to Hex, again coming to rest on Hex's head. Hex grabbed his copper sword, Ring of Thunder, and the rest of his gear from a shelf near the door, and headed out into the town square.  
  
The others were already there, the new caravan Hex was supposed to join. There was Rose, a brown-haired girl in a white tunic, the daughter of Tipa's Clavat tailors; Windy, a Yuke from the far-off city of Shella, who had come to Tipa to learn from Feather; Mil Huo, the blond son of Tipa's Selkie merchants; and Hunter, the strangely-named son of a pair of Lilties who had left Alfitiria to become farmers.  
  
Hex looked at each of them, and they seemed to show no nervousness in the smiles they flashed at him. A completely new generation for the caravan – Feather and Thorn were to accompany the caravan for the first year, but after that, this fresh crew was on their own. And each of them welcomed the challenge, none more then Hex.  
  
Until now.  
  
Now, Hex felt a strange but completely undeniable urge to follow the letter.  
  
"Come, Hex, join us," came Roland's voice from the base of the crystal. The other's split to make room for him, and Hex stepped up to his place. And then, after a beat, stepped past it, offering the letter to Roland.  
  
"Blu here said I could read it, and I thought it best to do so before I gave it to you, as it..."Hex swallowed. "It's from your son."  
  
Roland said nothing at first, and didn't even reach for the letter for a moment. When he did, he knelt down and held the letter in front of him. Feather knelt beside him, and Thorn joined them, both reading over Roland's shoulder.  
  
When they were finished, they looked up at Hex. He explained for Blu, with Blu piping in at certain points, that Blu had found the letter – he had not been given it – and that the package was waiting beneath the falls.  
  
"And, Hex," Roland said at last. "What of it?"  
  
The fact that Roland did not immediately send Hex on his way simply stunned Hex. After stuttering for a moment, he managed to say dryly, "And I want to walk your son's path, sir."  
  
Hex glanced over his shoulder at his would-be caravan mates. They were regarding him with a mix of worry and fear.  
  
"I don't remember much of my son," Roland said at last. "But I do remember that he was a scholar and adventurer, and someone who always shirked his responsibilities to others to do what he saw as best for them. This village is counting on you, Hex, to lead this caravan. I cannot allow you to go. Where is the ring?"  
  
Hex hesitated for a moment, but Blu piped up, "With the package, sir."  
  
"The letter says it should be here," Thorn said, eyeing Hex.  
  
"I moved it for safe-keeping," Blu answered. "Doesn't seem it was a good idea, now, though," Blu added with a nervous chuckle.  
  
Roland nodded. "Feather, Thorn, I would like you to take the caravan to the waterfall. The myrrh tree of the River Belle is nearby, so it is on your way. Find the package, if you can. I would like to have it upon your return. Now, let the ceremony begin."  
  
Hex took his place in line, and Thorn walked to each of the five young caravan members, giving each a torch. Feather followed, lighting them one by one. The five held up their torches in presentation to the crystal, as Roland spoke of the caravan's responsibility to the people, of the importance of memory in the creation of myrrh, of how the journey itself would be the fuel for the crystal they sought to preserve. But Hex was barely listening, his mind on the letter. Responsibility and memory...did Roland not have a responsibility to the memories of his son, to fulfill what was clearly his son's last wish.  
  
The ceremony ended at last, and Feather and Thorn stood before the five. "We've got something for each of ya, in celebration of the day," Thorn said.  
  
"For Rose, we've got a Chocobo Pocket," Thorn said, giving the girl the magical pouch made of chocobo feathers.  
  
"For Windy," Feather said next, "I have an Eternal Helm." Windy bowed – she was actually already wearing the helm, and Hex had a fleeting feeling of disappointment over the lost chance to at last see the face of a Yuke. The feeling was, of course, quickly replaced by the feeling of disappointment at being denied his chance to travel after Roland's son.  
  
"For Hunter, a little somethin' I made myself," Thorn said, presenting Hunter with a pair of Storm Armlets.  
  
"For Mil Hou, an Earth Pendant," Feather said, giving the heart-shaped stone pendant to Mil Hou, who donned it eagerly.  
  
"And, at last, for Hex," Thorn said. "This...is somethin' I found with the remains of yer parent's caravan, boy." Thorn held up a sword of black metal, which Hex recognized as tempered mythril. The sword had a fairly large blade, with bladed wings branching from the main blade near the point. It looked like it might be heavy and awkward, but when Hex took it, he found that it was perfectly balanced. He turned it over in his hands as Thorn continued.  
  
"I think it was your father's. It's a Rune Blade, and I figured you'd like it, given your talents with magic. I would've given it to you sooner," Thorn wasn't looking at Hex as he spoke, but rather at the ground. "I was just afraid that you'd take it and rush off to see what happened to them. You have a strong sense of responsibility, Hex, but you also have always wanted to play the hero." At this, Thorn looked pointedly at Roland. "And I have always honestly believed that you have the makings of a hero."  
  
Thorn turned back to Hex, and for a moment, Hex saw a flash of tears in Thorn's eyes. But Thorn quickly composed himself, and looked up at Blu. "So, what about you, little one? You wanna come along?"  
  
"Absolutely!" Blu said.  
  
"Well then," Roland said joyfully, "get going!"  
  
And the five young friends and their two teachers turned and walked from the villages, the mixed tears and joyful wishes of their families raining around them.  
  
But Hex didn't hear any of it. He was too far into his plans to get the package, and follow Roland's son. 


End file.
